Old Man Grimes
by ZackAttack78
Summary: Living in a zombie wastleland can change you. Growing up in one can mold you. Shape you into something you shouldn't have to be, something you don't want to be. Make you cold... distant... closed off. But the post-apocalypse can also test you. For Old Man Grimes, this was one tough test.
1. Years Gone By

**Author's Note –**

 **This is not my first attempt at a multi-chapter story, but I intend to make it my first successful attempt at a multi-chapter story. Now, the continuity for this story will follow the series up until the finale of Season 7, and then follow the comics up until the end of the latest arc, "The Whisperer War". I'll be creating some new story lines and altering things, but other than that, I'll stay mostly faithful to the source material. Any ways, I hope you enjoy, and please review! I love reading reviews.**

It was the rain drops that got the Old Man to open his eye. But that's not what got him to wake up. He'd up for hours, already, listening to the moans and snarls all around him. He had taken refuge in an abandoned auto repair shop, sleeping in the bed of a truck that had been lifted about seven feet into the air. The shop must not have been as secure as he originally thought, because he heard the walkers after what felt like only two or three hours of sleep. The first time he got any sleep he got in a long time.

He had opened his eye to see a rotted-out hole in the roof above him, which was letting the rain in. Getting up, he moved his long hair out of his face and peered down to the source of the disgusting noises. He only counted three walkers he could see, so he needn't use his gun. That would only be a waste of bullets. He pulled out his hunting knife and put down the walkers with ease. He banged on the side of the truck to see if there were any more he couldn't see or hear. After a minute, he decided the coast was clear and climbed down. He scavenged the bodies to see if there was anything worth taking.

He found a few useful things. A little switch blade that could come in handy, a few .50 Cals he didn't know or care how a civilian came by them, a granola bar that he decided to call breakfast. What excited him most, however was the new lighter and half-full pack of cigarettes he found. It was a habit he had picked up a while ago, soon after his father passed. His siblings didn't approve, but he figured that with everything trying to kill him out here, lung cancer was the least of his worries.

After he got what was needed from the dead, he gathered his things and took off, leaving his temporary bed behind him. He opened the door he had come in through, looking at the rain as it started to pick up. It wasn't exactly a heavy rain, but it was somewhere between a typical shower and a complete downpour. The Old Man looked down at his worn-out jeans and grey t-shirt that was draped by an open blue flannel shirt. He realized that he might not have the proper protection from this rain, but he didn't mind. He's dealt with worse than rain. With a stroke of his beard, his bag slung around his shoulder, and his Colt Python in its holster, the Old Man headed for an unknown destination. He had no exact place to be, nowhere urgent he had to go. He just wandered, like he always did nowadays. He had no home, no group, no actual family. At least not really, anyways…

And so, he walked. Just walked. He walked on the road when the woods were too dense. He walked through the woods when the road ended. He took out a walker or two when they crossed his path. He stopped every now and again to rest his feet or take a piss. And then he walked again. He just walked until it got too dark to walk safely. Then he found a place to sleep or, more commonly, to wait out the night. And he did it alone. That was every day for the Old Man. And that's how he liked it. No one to mess with him. No one to get in his way. No one to get too attached to.

The Old Man had been alone for what was probably ten years now. Maybe more. Maybe less. The Old Man stopped keeping track of the years' a while ago. His sister was much better at keeping track of time than he was. She always knew what year it was and what month it was, picking it up where their stepmother left off. The Old Man didn't care about years, though. He never did. He only cared about the days. That's how he kept track of time. He didn't care about having food enough for a month, or how many weeks before the medicine ran out, or how old he was. He only cared about living day to day, now. That's all. It was his choice.

After everyone he lost, it didn't make sense to the Old Man to grow too attached to anyone. No one lived forever, especially in this world. People were lucky to live long enough to see everyone else around them die before them. And that was something the Old Man didn't want to live through, again. It was easier to just be alone. So he was. That's why he was surprised when he heard someone else's voice behind him.

"Hands up, buddy," the voice said, "Slowly." The Old Man put his hands up, not wanting any trouble. He was surprised that whoever this was got the drop on him. He must be getting sloppy.

"What do you want, son?" The Old Man asked.

"I want you to turn around. Also slowly." The Old Man turned around to face his new friend. A young man, probably in his early to mid-twenties. He was wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt with the hood up, so the Old Man couldn't get a clear look at his face. He had a machete with a blue handle in its sheath attached to his hip. He had an AR-15 aimed at the Old Man, to ensure he wasn't going to attempt anything rash. The Old Man noticed a large amount of dried mud caked around his roughed-up boots. The Old Man assumed this meant he's been out in the wild for some time, maybe not intentionally. He had a duffle bag around his shoulder, indicating he was a supply runner for one of the many communities that've sprung up since he and his family arrived in Virginia.

"Alright. I turned around. Now what do you want?" The Old Man asked again.

"I just want whatever food you have. And your gun. And your knife. And whatever ammo and medicine you have. Now!" The runner demanded, while pulling the rifle's charging handle. The Old Man had no choice. He gave the young man his bag, his pistol, and his hunting knife. Once the he was without all his visible supplies, the young man picked it all up and prepared to leave.

"I'm sorry for this, buddy, it's not personal, just survival," The young man tried to explain, "You understand, don't you?"

"Oh, I understand. Don't you worry about that, son," The Old Man said. The young man turned to leave, and suddenly the Old Man had a switchblade up against his throat.

"And you understand that I can't just let you take my sh*t, right son?" The Old Man's other hand held the young man's rifle arm at bay, while the cold steel of the blade pressed against his neck. The Old Man couldn't tell if the young man was sweating or if it was just the rain dripping from his chin.

"W-what do you want, buddy?" The young man asked, stuttering and slightly shaking.

"Well, first, I want my sh*t. And once I have it all back, I want your sh*t. Got it?"

"G-got it." The young man gave the Old Man all his supplies and weapons, as well as his own bag and his AR-15. The Old Man was smart enough to pat down the young man to make sure they weren't going to do this all again. Once he was sure he was defenseless, The Old Man aimed the AR-15 at the young man.

"Alright, son. One more thing," The Old Man started to say, "I want you to take me to where ever it is you come from."

"Are you crazy? They see you coming in with a gun pointed at my back, they'll shoot you down on the spot!" The young man exclaimed.

"I'll take my chances. Now get moving,"

"Alright, alright, I'm going. But don't say I didn't warn you, buddy,"

"Then I won't,"

They began walking east. The Old Man had a slight idea where they were going, but he wasn't certain. After a few minutes, the young man turned around abruptly, and tried to grab the rifle. The Old Man shut that sh*t down, quickly. He tore the barrel from the young man's hands and introduced the butt of the gun to his nose. The young man fell to the ground quickly. His hood fell off when the gun hit his nose, revealing his caramel colored skin and black hair. As the young man tried to stop the blood from gushing out of his broken nose, The Old Man regained his composure, aimed the gun at the young man, and pulled the charging handle on the rifle, loading a bullet into the chamber.

"You try anything like that again, son, and I'll blow your godd*mn head off. Understand?" The Old Man threatened. The young man looked up at the Old Man, blood all over his hands and face.

"Yeah… I got it," The young man complied. He got up and started walking again. The Old Man followed, more vigilant and ready to fire this time.

"Hey, what's your name, by the way?" The young man inquired.

"What does it matter?" The Old Man demanded.

"I think I have a right to know the name of the guy who threatened to kill me twice now," The young man explained, "So, what is it?" The Old Man chuckled a bit before answering.

"Carl. My name's Carl"


	2. Homecoming

It had been a few hours, and by this point, Carl knew exactly where they were going. And truth be told, he wasn't exactly happy about it. He hadn't been there in a very long time. Not since his father's funeral. But before he knew it, he was reading the words on the sign his father put up: WELCOME TO THE ALEXANDRIA SAFE ZONE. MERCY FOR THE LOST. VENGEANCE FOR THE PLUNDERERS. It felt like the first time he saw it. He heard children playing, just like last time. The only things that had changed were his age, the people he was with, and the look-out that had her Winchester Model 70 trained on his head.

"Stop right where you are, old man. Now you drop the gun or you'll be missing your other eye," The look-out demanded. She was also around her mid-twenties. She was Asian, with tan skin, possibly due to spending so much time on the wall, out in the sun. She had a red sweater and acid-washed jeans on, with an orange and yellow beanie covering her short, jet black hair.

"I'll drop the gun once you open the gates and let me in," Carl responded.

"Not gonna happen, golden oldie. You have ten seconds to release our man and surrender your weapons. You don't, you die. Simple as that," The look-out said, "Which is it gonna be?" Carl figured he wasn't getting into Alexandria this way. So he decided to try a different route.

"Tell your leader that Carl would like to talk," Carl said to the look-out.

"Oh, okay. I'll gladly do what the old psycho holding a gun to my friend says," The look-out mocked, "Times up, pal."

"You can't get a shot off before I put a hole in your friend here's head," Carl pulled the charging handle to reinforce his stance, though not actually intending to kill the young man.

"D*mn it, Chloe, just do it!" the young man yelled at the look-out, clearly terrified.

"Shut up, Hector, I can handle this!" Chloe yelled back, trying to get a good shot. And she was close, too. Close enough to get Carl a little worried.

"Just get Judith!" Hector screamed in desperation. Chloe hesitated for another second before putting the rifle down, with an exasperated sigh. She looked down to whoever was standing at the base of the ladder, ready to open the gate when necessary. It was his dad who implemented that concept, so the look-out wouldn't abandon their post for even a second.

"Go get Judith. Tell her Carl's here. Whatever that means," Chloe said to the gate keeper. They waited for a few minutes for Judith to get there.

"You OK, Hector?" Chloe asked the winded runner.

"Yeah, but I think my nose is broken," Hector responded.

Carl took out a cigarette while they were catching up, inhaling the smoke, feeling it fill his lungs before dispelling it into the air. Carl remembered hating the smell of cigarette smoke. His grandpa used to smoke when he'd take Carl to the zoo before the world ended. And after the world ended, members of his new family smoked. Daryl, Carol, and Abraham all blew smoke every now and again. Carl guessed that at some point, he just grew accustomed to it, being around it all the time. It was just a natural progression to start smoking. He didn't know how Judy still hated it.

Soon, the gate-keeper pushed the gate open to reveal a woman in her early thirties, wearing a brown hoodie underneath an old leather aviator's jacket. Her camouflage cargo pants tucked into her black combat boots. Hunting knife in its sheath hooked to her belt, pistol in its holster. Her honey-colored hair pulled back into a low ponytail. As Carl looked at his little sister he noticed her big, toothy smile as Judith Grimes saw her big brother for the first time in years.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that smoking is bad for you?" Judy asked, sarcastically. A soft, warm smile spread over Carl's face.

"It's good to see you, Judy. Can I come in?" Carl asked his leader sister.

"Of course! Hector, did you give my brother any trouble?"

"Y-your brother? This nutjob is your brother?" The dumbfounded supply runner asked. Chloe looked equally shocked, but chose to keep her mouth shut.

"He used this gun to rob me. He was gonna take dad's Colt." Carl admitted to his little sister. Hector started panicking once Judy shot him a faux-disappointed look.

"I d-didn't know he was your brother! I didn't even know you had another brother!" Hector was stammering hard. He probably thought he was in trouble. And the fact that Carl hadn't put down the gun yet probably wasn't helping him.

"Oh, forgot about this," Carl realized as he lowered his gun and turned the safety on. He and Judy just started to laugh.

"Relax, Hector. You weren't ever in any trouble. Now go, get Dr. Grant to look at your nose," Judy ordered. Hector looked at Carl again before he left to go get his nose fixed. Carl could tell Hector wasn't his biggest fan. As Hector walked past Judy into Alexandria, Carl and the others heard the distinctive snarls and groans of a walker. Carl turned to see a singular walker making its way toward the open gates. Carl began to pull the blue-handled machete out of its sheath when he heard Chloe speak up.

"Don't stress out, everybody, I've got this," Chloe said, aiming her rifle and pulling back the bolt.

"Don't shoot," Carl ordered, "You'll only draw more. And you'll be wasting a perfectly good bullet, too."

And with that, Carl ran at the walker with the blue-handled machete in hand. With one, powerful strike, Carl imbedded the blue-handled machete deep into the walker's head. As the walker went limp, Carl pulled the weapon out of the monster's head, getting some blood on his flannel shirt. Shaking some of the blood off the machete, Carl sheathed it was he began to turn back to the gate.

"Thanks for stealing my thunder, old man," Chloe said, bitter that Carl had stolen her kill. Judy waved her behavior off.

"Chloe's our best shot. The other day, about fifteen walkers showed up on the road. Chloe picked off each one before they ever touched the wall," Judy explained.

"I don't doubt it. I just thought I'd take care of it, is all," Carl responded.

"So, before we go any further, answer me this:" Judy began, "Why, after all this time, did you decide to come back?"

"Couple of reasons. I knew that kid was from one of these towns. When he robbed me, I realized there were people now that either didn't know who I was, or didn't remember." Carl reasoned, "I figured it was time to... reintroduce myself to these newcomers."

"Hmm. Sounds about right," Judy nodded, "And your family had absolutely nothing to do with that?"

Carl, suddenly feeling bashful, started stammering. He went on for about two minutes, not able to get an actual, full sentence out before Judy stopped him with a chuckle.

"Relax, Carl," She said between laughs, "I know your method. I can respect it, even if I don't always like it."

Judy gestured him to follow her into the Safe Zone.

"Come on, let's take you on a trip down memory lane, big brother," Judy offered. Carl hadn't stepped foot in Alexandria in years. He was a little hesitant to see how things had changed. He was worried who had died, who had arrived, and who even remembered him. Nevertheless, Carl followed his sister into the Safe Zone. As the gates close behind him, Carl felt as though he'd arrived there for the first time, again.


	3. Bittersweet Memories

Carl looked over Alexandria. It looked different, yet it felt the same as always. Over the years, Carl's father had pioneered the idea of expanding the walls, but Judy took that concept and ran with it. Carl looked but he couldn't see where the walls ended, anymore. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd finally reached the Hilltop's borders. It wasn't just the walls, though. He saw construction going on everywhere. Crews were building new houses, reinforcing the walls, and putting up new crows nests for look-outs. It was all quite impressive. So much had happened since Carl left. Judy was walking him through the town, telling him how far they've come since Carl left.

"About a year after you left, a small group of survivors broke in and tried to steal some of our food. We stopped them, of course, but it made us realize that with the expansion of the walls, we needed more vantage points and look-outs," Judith explained to Carl.

"You 'stopped' them? Meaning you killed them?" Carl asked, knowing his sister, while willing and able, was averse to killing and avoided it when possible.

"Well, we made them an offer: return the food, hand over their weapons, and begin the probationary period," Judy explained, "Most of them took the offer. Some didn't,"

Carl decided to leave it at that. He didn't want to press her for details. He knew that Judy preferred to forget unpleasant experiences. Ever since she was old enough to hold a gun. He remembered her first kill. She was fifteen, Carl was twenty-six. Their dad had sent Carl to lead a trade caravan to the Kingdom. The day they were meant to leave, Judy showed up, armed with a pocket knife and a Glock 22 40. Mm. Carl was surprised, but Judy explained that she wanted to get some experience with the outside world. The most exposure she'd had to the outside world was opening and closing the gate. Carl was hesitant, but Judy told him she'd already gotten both their parent's approval, so he conceded.

After about an hour or so, the caravan was held up by a car by a small herd of walkers. It wasn't hard to clear them, seeing as everyone in the caravan had a gun. Soon after the herd was dealt with, Carl and some other Alexandrians started moving the corpses to the side of the road. When they were almost done, a group of nomads arrived out of the woods. They opened fire on the unprepared caravan. Jeremy, a look-out for Alexandria who had volunteered to accompany the caravan, was helping Carl with a body when a bullet struck him in the chest, knocking him down. Carl, of course, dropped the body and ducked behind one of the cars. He grabbed his 1911 9. Mm and started to return fire. He saw another Alexandrian get his brains blown out. Charlie, Carl thought his name was. Soon his clip was empty, and as he was reloading, one of the attackers got the drop on him. He tried to stab Carl in the good eye, but Carl fought, and was able to divert the knife. However, he diverted it into his shoulder. The attacker pulled the knife out of Carl's shoulder and readied to try for his eye again. Just before he could land the killing blow, a flurry of bullets all landed in the attacker's chest. As his body went limp, Carl pushed his body off him.

Looking up to see his savoir, Carl saw Judy, gun pointed straight at where the attacker was, before he fell to the ground. Carl looked around, seeing that the other saviors had managed to kill or drive back all the attackers. He got up to comfort his sister, clutching his shoulder to stop the bleeding. He used his free hand to lower her gun, then he hugged her with that same arm. As they were calming down, Jeremy stood back up, having turned. Carl was paying more attention to his sister and where the attackers could have gone, so he didn't hear Jeremy's snarls. Judy, however, did notice. She left Carl's embrace and pulled out her pocket knife. She put down Jeremy without a word. The she turned her attention to the attacker who had almost killed Carl. To Carl's surprise, he was still breathing. Judy noticed too, and knelt next to him. When he saw her, he started spitting insults through the blood coming out of his mouth. He called her terribly vulgar names and spat at her.

"You dumb b*tch! You shot me! I swear to god I'll kill you!" Judy, unfazed, plunged her knife into his temple, ending his rant and suffering. Carl looked at her, feeling a mixture of pride, sadness, anger, and remorse. He saw Judy begin to tear up. He was glad that Judy was crying. He was glad because he couldn't remember the last time he cried for anything. He didn't remember crying at Sasha's funeral. He didn't remember crying when he lost his eye. He didn't even remember crying when he had to put down him biological mother. He was glad that Judy still felt. Later, Carl found out she lied about getting their parent's approval, but Carl was still glad she went. She had proven that she could both handle herself in a fight, and that she was still human in a world that tried so hard to squash all the things that made someone human.

Carl was so lost in his memories that he didn't notice that Judy had walked him straight to the armory. Now spanning over the entire first floor of the storage house, the armory was full of firearms and ammunition. Shotguns, handguns, rifles, and even some heavy artillery, which surprised Carl. Guns weren't the only weapons stocked in the armory. There were plenty of compound, recurve, and crossbows as well, fully stocked with arrows and bolts. There were also swords, spears, and axes all made by the blacksmiths at the Hilltop.

"We eventually had to move our pantry to a different location to accommodate all these weapons. We really struck gold when we sent a scout team over to Quantico. You'd think it was already picked clean, but there was a virtual treasure trove of guns and resources," Judy explained, "We've still got our bullet manufacturers providing us and our allied communities with all the ammo we could want. Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Well, it's definitely bigger now than when I left. How do you keep track of all of this?" Carl asked.

"Our Resource Manager, Irving, is a wizard with a manifest. There isn't a gun or a blade that leaves this building he doesn't know about,"

Carl saw something out of the corner of his eye, and looked to see what it could possibly be. He was looking at a black 1911 TRP with an all too familiar baseball bat carved into the wood grips of the gun. He remembered the last day he held that gun in his hands. The day he witnessed the death of his adopted family members Glenn and Abraham. He remembered the setting. Late at night, on the way to get Maggie to Dr. Carson at the Hilltop, surrounded by hundreds of men and women armed and ready to kill all of them at a moment's notice. He remembered seeing Abraham's skull split as Negan mercilessly beat him with the bat Lucille. He remembered Glenn's eye pop out of his skull as he tried to comfort Maggie one last time. He had just seen his innocent friends savagely murdered in front of him. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Carl swore from that day forward he would never let himself be caught in a situation like that again. And so far, he hadn't.

The rest of the tour consisted of meeting some of the essential personnel, such as Irving, and a woman named Patricia who oversaw the pantry and all the produce. It was dark, now, and Judy lead Carl back to the house he lived in when he still called Alexandria home. Of all the places in Alexandria, this building hardly changed at all. Everything was exactly as Carl remembered it. The same door, the same porch, the same paint color, even.

"I figured you'd want a warm bed to sleep tonight," Judy told Carl once they got to the house, "Plus, you can't leave without saying 'hello' to Duane."

Duane. Carl realized he hadn't seen Duane at all that day. He didn't even ask if he was still alive. Carl was ashamed of the fact that he had completely forgotten about his half-brother. It wasn't that Carl didn't care. He did, very much. He just tried not to think of anything or anyone he cared about too often. And he guessed he got good at forgetting. They opened the door to see the same old living room. Couch, coffee table, arm chair. Carl looked at the fireplace and chuckled, seeing as how there was still probably a rifle of some kind hiding up there. Then he looked up, above the fireplace, to see Michonne's katana, placed like a trophy on the mantle. That only meant one thing to him.

"So," Carl began, "Mom's gone?"

Judy was quiet for a minute. There was strained look on her face. Then she confirmed Carl's suspicions.

"Yeah. About two years ago. I was there. Duane, too. She was just lying there, just barely breathing. She hadn't opened her eyes in two days at that point, so we figured she was on her way out. We decided to keep the kids out of the room for when it happened. But they were able to say their good byes, not that she would've remembered them. But when the breathing stopped, we knew it was time. Duane did it." Judy explained. Her words were strained, but she wasn't crying. She was clearly upset, and missed the woman who raised her, but she was handling it like an adult. Carl couldn't've been more proud of his little sister. She was still the same now as she was then. She must've rubbed off on Carl, because he was feeling sorrowful.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Carl lamented, upset he wasn't there for her final breath, "How was the funeral? Is she… buried next to dad?"

"Yes. It's what they both would've wanted," Judy said with a soft smile. Carl, suddenly, quietly mourning his adoptive mother. He was remembering the last time he ever saw her. It was the night he left Alexandria. His dad was gone, Judy was practically running Alexandria buy then, and both she and Duane were parents. He didn't see any reason to stay in Alexandria anymore. After his father, and everything with Enid…. No, it was just better for Carl to leave the communities. He had already made peace with Duane and Judy, and he needed to say goodbye to Michonne, one last time. Her mind was starting to go by that point, but not as bad as Judy had just explained yet. Carl was sitting on a folding chair next to her bed, as she lay there, peaceful. They had talked about a lot of things. They talked about his dad, about the rest of their family who were gone, about everything they had been through, as a family. And then he told Michonne what he was planning to do.

"Hey, mom. I have something I need to tell you."

"What is it, Carl? Is something wrong?" Michonne asked, suddenly concerned, "Is it your sister? Is it your brother?"

"No, no, they're fine. It's about me, actually."

"Oh? What's wrong?"

"I…. I'm leaving Alexandria tonight. After we're done talking, actually. With dad gone, and Enid… gone. I just don't see any reason for me to stay. I've already said goodbye to Judy and Duane and their kids, but… I wanted to say goodbye to you, before I left. I didn't want you to be mad at me. I hope you understand."

Carl looked at Michonne in those last few moments. Carl couldn't tell what she was thinking. He almost never could. Then she began to speak.

"Go for it," She had said, "You're a grown man, Carl. Not only that, but you're a survivor. You've made tough decisions. You've lead armies. You've saved lives. I'll miss you dearly, but I trust your instincts. I trust you're making the right decision for you, and that you're going to be safe. So, go. Leave Alexandria. Do whatever it is you need to do, Carl. Just remember one thing: You're not alone. I know that with Enid gone, your father not with us anymore, me bedridden, and your siblings busy with their families and this place, you feel like you don't have anyone left to turn too. Just promise me that you'll remember that you'll always have a family here, at the Kingdom, at Hilltop, at Oceanside, and at the Quarry. You'll always have your sister. You'll always have your brother. And you'll always have mine and your father's love. Promise me you won't forget that."

Carl was the closest he had come in quite some time to crying. But he didn't. He was touched by his mother's speech. It was a sad moment, but also sweet. Carl had started to get second thoughts on leaving, but he had Michonne's blessing. He figured there was no longer anything holding him back.

"I promise, mom. I love you," Carl responded.

"And I love you, so, so much. You are one of the best things to have ever happened to me," Michonne said, her words full of love. After that, Carl gave her a warm hug, said his last goodbyes to Judy, Duane, and the kids, and turned his back on Alexandria.

Carl was so deep in memory that he didn't even hear when Duane first called him.

"Hello, Earth to Carl? How's it going big brother?" Carl turned to see his thirty-something year old half-brother walk into the room. He was tall, muscular, and had a neatly cut goatee that put Carl's dirty beard to shame. He had a shaved head, a style he had picked up years earlier because he felt it would help him in hand-to-hand fights. No one would be able to grab his hair if he didn't have any. His tan sweater and black jeans fit snuggly over his body. He had a FN five-seveN in his shoulder holster and a Bowie Hunter strapped to one of his combat boots. He welcomed Carl with a big ol' smile and outstretched arms.

"You know. Just surviving, somehow," Carl responded, "How about you? How are the kids? How's Angela?"

"Angie's doing just fine. She's at book club with some other hens," Duane joked, "And I just put Dre and Rose down for bed. You can say hi in the morning. That is, if you're here buy the morning,"

"Yeah, I'll be here for breakfast at least," Carl said, "Anything here beats the stale granola bar I ate this morning."

"I'd take that over mom's oatmeal any day," Judy chimed in. They all shared a laugh over that, remembering their mother's infamously inedible oatmeal. After about an hour of catching up, Duane's wife, Angie, had come home, surprised by Carl's sudden appearance. After Angie and Judy opened a bottle of wine and a box of water crackers, the four went on for hours reminiscing over the good memories. Like the time their father had fallen off one of the community's horses teaching Judy to ride. The time Daryl taught Duane to field dress a feral dog they killed on a hunting trip. The cat Duane and Judy found outside the walls and kept hidden for all of two hours before it used their parent's bed as a litterbox.

Before long, they all decided to turn in for the night. Judy lead Carl to the room he was to stay in that night. It was his parent's old room, unsurprisingly. That room realistically hadn't been used since their mother had passed. Carl was given blankets, a pillow, and fresh clothes for the morning. All she asked was that Carl not smoke in the house. After a final goodnight, the three siblings all went off to try to get some sleep. Carl, however, wouldn't succeed in this endeavor.


	4. Nightmares

"DARYL!"

Carl woke up in a cold sweat. He looked around frantically before realizing that it was only a nightmare. A terrible, vivid nightmare. It was dark, the middle of the night. The whole house was quiet. Carl's breathing was still labored and, even though he was now awake, he could feel his heart beat accelerating. His sweating continued, and he couldn't catch his breath. He looked for his bedside table. Opening the drawer, he fumbled for the lighter and pack of Morley cigarettes he took off the dead walker. After he finally got a cigarette in-between his lips, he lit it up and inhaled deeply. In an instant, he felt his stress melt away. It was as if the memories and nightmares left his body in the form of the smoke being expelled from his lungs and out his mouth.

Remembering the one rule his sister gave him, Carl opened a window to let the smoke out. He continued to smoke, of course. He had already started it, and he wasn't going to waste such a rare commodity. He pulled a chair up to the window and rested his elbows on the window sill. As he took another drag on the cigarette, he enjoyed the stillness of the world around him. He couldn't remember the last night he didn't have to ignore groans and moans. He didn't remember the last time he didn't have to sleep with a knife in his hand. There was nothing he had to be worried about. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. In a way, Carl missed it. Seeing Judy and Duane again, walking around the town he helped build… It made him nostalgic.

But he knew he couldn't come back. There wasn't any place for him there, not anymore. He wasn't a leader like his father. He didn't have patience for training soldiers, farming, or overseeing construction zones. He stopped feeling at home in Alexandria a while ago. Before his father died, even. And after everything with Enid and Lydia, he figured it was time to move on. So, when he felt that there wasn't a need for him in the communities any longer, he left. And oddly enough, he didn't regret it. Not until tonight, any ways.

He was at the end of his cigarette, now, and it did the trick. He was feeling drowsy, again. Maybe he could sleep a bit more before sunrise. He put his cigarette away, but he left the window open to air out the room, even though it was freezing this time of night. His head hit the pillow, but he still couldn't fall sleep immediately. He lay there, half awake, with nothing left to do to help him sleep. Counting sheep never helped him, not even when he was young, and he didn't feel like drinking a warm glass of milk.

He decided to take advantage of this insomnia to contemplate how he'll leave in the morning. He figured that Judy and Duane had some official business to take care of soon after breakfast, so he'd probably leave then. He'd say goodbye, of course, but he wouldn't stick around too long after that. This place wasn't his home. Of course, Judy and Duane and probably someone else he knew before he left would try to talk him into staying, just like last time. But he knew he wouldn't stay. He'd made up his mind.

Eventually, Carl was finally able to get back to sleep. His dreams, however, were not pleasant. Though, they never were. His dreams were often a mixture of actual events and made-up scenarios. That night, he'd thought he saw his adopted uncle Daryl fall off a truck bed and into a sea of walkers. There was a time when he had fallen off a truck bed, but it wasn't a dangerous encounter. He'd just fallen onto an old dirty road close by the Kingdom. It didn't make the dream any less terrifying, and it certainly wasn't fun the second time around. This time, the dream lasted longer. He saw Daryl getting torn apart, screaming as his flesh was being pulled off his bones, his blood staining the street. He knew it was a dream, but he was still horrified, and he couldn't look away.

He woke up a few more times that night, and each time he fell asleep, he'd relive that dream. But what happened the following morning could have easily passed for one of his nightmares.


	5. Unknown Territory

Carl had finally woken up for good around the crack of dawn. He got out of bed, got dressed, and started walking downstairs. Once he got down to the kitchen he saw Judy, already bright eyed and bushy tailed, eating a plate of eggs and toast, reading " _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ ", her favorite book. The site made Carl smile a bit, seeing some semblance of normality in this crazy world always mad Carl happy. He didn't want to disturb the moment by speaking or moving. His stomach, however, had other ideas. The noise coming from Carl's stomach was so loud, it caught Judy's attention away from the book. She looked at him and smiled. "Morning, Bedhead," Judy playfully mocked.

Carl sheepishly smiled as he ran his fingers through his long, dirty hair. "Morning, Judy. How many times have you read that book, now?" Carl asked.

"You know what? I've lost count. But I know every word by heart, now, so I guess that's a lot," Judy answered.

"I don't doubt it. I wish I read the way you do. I can't remember the last thing I read," Carl mused. He walked over to the counter and grabbed the basket of eggs and cracked one on the edge of the skillet on the stove. It sizzled as the heat quickly turned the transparent egg whites opaque. In almost no time, the egg was cooked to Carl's liking. He sat down at the table across from Judy with his breakfast. He cut into the egg yolk and watched it gush all over the plate. He swirled the whites in the yolk absent-mindedly as he thought about the difficult conversation that was about to take place. He was sure Judy knew what he was going to say, but it didn't make him dread it any less. As he took a bite, Judy started talking again.

"So, when are you planning on leaving?" She asked abruptly. Carl was slightly taken aback as he swallowed his food.

"Well, I was thinking I'd leave before Lunch. Maybe right after breakfast," Carl answered, "But I won't leave without saying goodbye, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I know. I was just curious, is all," Judy said.

"Hm, gotcha," Carl said back, "You're okay with me leaving?"

"No, I'm not okay with it. I haven't seen you in ten years and you're going to leave just like that. I'll never be okay with it. But I understand it. You have demons. Problems you need to work out. I get that. I just wish you could do that here. Or at the Hilltop," Judy explained.

Carl got quite after she said 'Hilltop'. He didn't like thinking about his ex-wife. They sat in silence for a minute before Judy spoke again.

"Why did you come back yesterday?"

"Your man – Hector, I think – ambushed me in the woods. Right outside Warrenton. Took my gun and bag. I got the drop on him and forced him to take me to wherever it was he lived. I thought it might be a house or a small camp I could scavenge. When I found out where we were headed I realized that I've been gone too long. People forgot who I was. Or didn't care. A part of me wanted to remind everyone who I was and what I could do, I guess. Another part of me missed you and Duane, too. It missed mom, and dad, and Aaron, and Daryl, and Tara. It missed everything. Before I left."

Carl hung his head in regret. Realizing that he truly wanted to stay, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He sat there waiting for Judy to respond. She took a breath to speak, but before she could say anything Duane ran into the room, distressed.

"Judy. We have a problem," Duane said.

"What's wrong? Walkers at the gate?" Judy asked, standing up.

"No. Our scavenger party in Maryland hasn't called back. It's been a full week without hearing from anyone. Just static. Until now," Duane revealed.

"Who made contact? George?" Judy asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and worry.

"No, sorry. It was Karen. She said that her party had been attacked by a hostile group," Duane explained, "She said they scattered them, stole their cars, and drove them into unknown territory. Said she found her radio on Robert's body,"

The whole room went silent. Carl remembered Robert. He was a good man who came to Alexandria from Kentucky right before Carl's father died. He was a runner, and was almost as good as Glenn was. It was a shame he was gone, now.

"She said she had to put him down herself," Duane said, mournfully.

"Did she give any information about where she was? Anything that could help us find her and the other survivors?" Judy inquired.

"She said she was hiding out in a small barn off some country road. Not much else after the transmission died,"

Judy and Duane just stood there, thinking of the best way to go about this. Carl looked at them both, and he saw so much of their parents in that room. Quietly contemplating the situation and the actions they could take. Judy's hands were placed firmly in her hips, as she looked down at her boots. Her eyes seemed fixated on the worn-down, faded tip of his boots, where her toes would be. He even noticed Judy pressing her lips together the way her father did in tough situations. Duane had his arms crossed, looking straight ahead of him, at a point on the wall it seemed only he could see. There was a stoic look in his eyes, but there was a tinge of emotion behind them. A vulnerability he wasn't keen on letting show. He looked so much like Michonne in this moment. It was as if Carl was witnessing his parents making a decision on the town. Like when he was a young man. It seemed so long ago….

"I'll go find them," Judy finally said.

"Oh, come one, Judy, you know you can't do that. You're needed here!" Duane protested.

"Almost everyone who has experience on the outside of these walls was in that caravan. Of the few people we have ready and willing to make the journey, I have the most experience. I have to be the one to go," Judy explained.

"Judy, please," Duane started.

"I'll go," Carl said, abruptly. Judy and Duane looked at him in confusion.

"It makes the most sense. I'm leaving today anyways. I have more experience than both of you combined. I can travel up there, find the missing caravan, and guide them back here," Carl explained.

"Carl, you're pushing sixty. Frankly, it's a wonder you've lasted this long," Judy argued.

"But I did. I can do this, Judy. I'm veteran of three wars, remember. I survived all those. I can survive this," Carl said.

"You know, he has a point," Duane added.

"Duane!" Judy exclaimed, shocked.

"Well, think about it, he's not wrong! He's grown up outside the walls, he's fought in three wars, and he knows how to drop more than a few bodies. Walker or otherwise," Duane argued on Carl's behalf.

"Judy," Carl addressed his sister, "You know this is the best solution. It's not like you have another viable choice,"

Judy sat there, quietly. Hands on her hips, lips pressed together, eyes fixated on her boots. She was contemplating the decision. She had to have known there was no other way. Carl was their best bet to get their people back, and maybe even find some new supplies. She hated seeing her brother leave, but she couldn't think of anything else they could do. She hated it, but she knew it needed to be done.

"Fine. You'll leave today. But I'm not letting you leave without supplies," Judy finally said.

"Judy, I don't need anything but what I came here with," Carl argued.

"This is nonnegotiable. I'll make sure you have the proper tools to complete this task. You'll have food, water, ammo. Everything you need," Judy said, sternly. Carl knew there was no debating it any further. She was going to let him do it, but it would be on her terms. She very quickly left the room, no doubt to gather the necessary supplies. Duane stayed in the room for a few minutes more. After a while he looked up at Carl.

"This is really brave of you. Traveling to unknown territory. Finding people you don't even know. Fighting strangers," Duane said. Carl could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Hey, you're my family. I have to do this," Carl explained, "Plus I had nothing better to do."

They both chuckled a bit at Carl's joke. But soon the laughter stopped, and the severity of the situation began to sink in….


	6. Tip The Odds

Carl followed Judy to the front gates. She had refused to let him leave for Maryland until he'd been properly supplied with food, water, and ammo. And boy, did she supply him. In front of the gates was an RV filled with crates of canned foods and jugs of clean drinking water. She included pick-up trucks both behind and in front of the RV retrofitted with Browning M2HB's mounted on the roof. Carl equally impressed and overwhelmed.

"Holy sh*t, Judy, where'd you find these things?" Carl questioned

"Quantico. We went to set up an outpost there and found a treasure trove" Judy explained. Carl was still in a state of disbelief. He was in such disbelief that it took him a minute to realize exactly what two extra trucks meant for his quest. His eye widened as turned to Judy to protest.

"Judy, no –"

"Yes! I know you like being alone, but I don't want to risk anything. You need backup, and if you won't let me join you, then you at least have to let me give you a team." Judy shot back at him. Carl looked away, still against surrounding himself with people who could slow him down or get attached to.

"Yo, buddy!" Carl turned to face the voice who called him. Hector and Chloe were walking up to him, both armed to the teeth with guns, knives, and other melee weapons. _Great,_ Carl thought, _not only do I have go with anyone at all, but I have to go with the two people here who hate me._ He turned back to his sister.

"Judy, I don't know about all this…"

"Carl. George is out there," Judy confessed quietly, "I trust you to bring him home, but I will do anything to tip the odds in your favor"

Judy looked at Carl with misty eyes, holding back tears. They softened Carl enough to bring her in for a hug. She smelled like black coffee and firewood. Just like dad. It made Carl smile as he let go. Judy wiped her eyes as she held back her tears.

"Don't worry, Judy. I'll bring your husband home," Carl promised, "Or I'll die trying," Judy chuckled at Carl's declaration before letting her grin melt into a somber frown. They both knew all too well that in this world, even in this new age of security, venturing outside the walls could mean certain death.

"Sorry," Carl apologized, "Poor choice of words," Judy waved away his remark. In an abrupt change of subject, Judy called over the group she put together and introduced them to Carl. Carl's eye widened as he looked at the small army walking toward him, reinforcing his belief that Judy was going over the top.

"You already know Hector and Chloe. They actually volunteered for this mission," Judy began

"I'm sure they did," Carl mused, shooting the pair a shifty-eyed look. If Judy noticed his suspicious tone she didn't acknowledge it.

"Hi!" an elderly woman in a large, blue parka and snow pants outstretched her hand to Carl, "I'm Dr. Laura Sattler. I worked with Doctors Without Borders before everything went wrong. I'll be your main source of medical care on this trip," Carl shook her hand, noticing how fragile it felt in his own hand. He wondered if it was smart to have such an older member in this group. Then he remembered that he's probably considered 'too old' as well. A large, black man with a burley beard in a tight white t-shirt and jeans pushed the fragile doctor aside to make himself known.

"Name's Ulysses Lee Crane. I'm the big gun of this crew. I'll take care of anybody or any _body_ that gets in our way, hehe," Carl's shoulder nearly dislocated from his socket when Ulysses 'playfully' punched it. This guy clearly thought he was funny. Carl immediately thought this guy could be a liability. Ulysses took it upon himself to introduce everyone else to Carl.

"Over there we have 'Shy' Isabelle," Ulysses gestured towards a young black woman in a yellow collared shirt and khakis, "She's the navigator. She'll tell you how to get from Tallahassee to Albany in two hours, hehe. She's like a wizard, that one."

"The senorita in the green jacket and jeans is Winnie. She's one of our runners," Carl turned toward the woman in question, noticing the stern look in her green eyes. She was clearly hardened by the same world that hardened him. Carl decided she was not someone to trifle with. Ulysses continued.

"A last but certainly not least, we have Riz and Don. These hunters will keep your belly full if it's the last thing they do, hehe," The two men were drapped in camo-everything. Camo pants, jackets, boots, gloves, even their faces were painted to look just like the foliage they certainly felt at home in. Carl couldn't help but feel an odd sensation of familiarity. Each of these people reminded Carl of someone from his past. When he looked at Dr. Sattler, Ulysses, Isabelle, Winnie, Riz, and Don he saw Hershel, Abraham, Beth, Sasha, and Daryl. Carl knew there was no way Judy could see the same similarities, seeing as the only one of those names she'd even remember was Daryl. Carl was completely overwhelmed, and he was having difficulty not showing it.

"We sent six people up Anne Arundel County, and with Robert confirmed dead it means we have at least five people to bring home. We need you nine to bring them home safe and sound. It would be best if you could avoid conflict with this new group, but if you need to, don't take prisoners," Judy instructed. Carl knew this was deeply personal for her, and she almost certainly wished this new group to be wiped off the map for endangering the father of her children.

"Good luck. And remember, above everything else: Just survive, somehow," Judy looked over the group, eyes falling on Carl. They had a silent understanding between them. Carl knew Judy wanted everyone home that could come home, but he knew that if he had too, he'd sacrifice everyone in this caravan if it meant bringing George back to Judy. Of course, he would never admit that to his new company.

Riz and Don boarded the truck in the back, Winnie and Ulysses boarded the truck in front, leaving Carl, Hector, Chole, Dr. Sattler, and Isabelle to fill out the RV. And with one final look from Carl at Judy, they were off. Venturing into unknown territory to fight an unknown threat and bring home an unknown amount of people. Thinking of the Herculean task ahead of them, Carl sighed heavily, feeling as though not everyone would make it out alive.


	7. Questions

The caravan had been trudging along for hours before anyone opened their mouths. Hector, Chloe, Isabelle, and Laura sat in the RV, silent, occasionally sparing glances at Carl. Carl drove, noticing the deafening silence, and he smirked. He knew they were all too intimidated to speak to him. He had an air about him, one that almost demanded respect, reverence, and (to a certain extent) fear. This fear kept them from getting too familiar. Kept them from getting close. The more distant they were, the better off they were. Then Dr. Sattler spoke.

"I hope you don't mind my asking, Mr. Grimes, but how did you lose your eye?" The doctor asked. Carl pondered over whether to answer. And, furthermore, whether to answer truthfully. Maybe a well-delivered lie could get brighten Carl's dour mood.

"You know that samurai sword in Judy's house?" Carl began. Dr. Sattler nodded slowly as everyone else's eyes widened.

"Some wacko broke into Alexandria one night. Back when I was a kid. Cut up a few people with that sword. He was about to slice Judy in half. Had her cornered and all," Carl's audience was visibly frightened now, "I jumped in front of the blade. Cut my eye out, but the guy lost his grip. Dropped the sword. I picked it up. Ran him through," Carl smirked as the group of newbies around him squirmed at the notion of a man being stabbed with a katana. Clearly, none of them had seen what Carl had. He was enjoying himself too much.

"Kidding," Carl admitted after a few minutes, "I got shot by some punk kid while trying to get out of a herd of walkers. Though, the guy that shot me did get run through with that sword. Just not by me."

The others stared in disbelief, too confused or exasperated to speak.

"Whose sword was it?" Chloe finally asked. After a moment, Carl spoke.

"That sword belonged to one of the greatest people I ever knew. She was a master at using it. She was like a Jedi with that thing," Carl explained.

"What's a Jedi?" Chloe asked, bewildered. Carl rolled his eye, forgetting that these younger survivors had most likely never seen the epic space opera.

"Forget about that," Carl continued, "She was tough. She was wise. She was my best friend. Her name was Michonne… She was my family." Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Hector broke the silence to ask the one question everyone else was too afraid to ask.

"So," he began, "You're Judith's _older_ brother?" It bothered Carl that answering Dr. Sattler's question created this impromptu Q&A. I also bothered him that Hector put emphasis on the word 'older'. He glanced the at rear-view mirror, seeing every eye on him, waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah. Judy and I share a mom. Might share a dad," Carl explained. Hector looked over at the old man in disbelief.

"Wait, so that Rick Grimes guy ain't your dad?" Hector pressed. Carl chuckled. His father had never told either of them that his former partner and friend, Shane, might be Judy's father. But Carl didn't need to be told. He was smart, even back at the Greene Family farm. He knew there was good chance Judy was biologically his half-sister. Didn't change a thing for him, though. Judy was his sister in his mind.

"Hold on," Chloe interrupted, "If you're Judy's big bro, then why hasn't she ever talked about you?" Car frowned at her question.

"I… upset her a couple years ago," Carl explained, "She wanted me to stay in Alexandria. I left anyway." The vehicle was quiet for a few moments after that. And to everyone's surprise, 'Shy' Isabelle asked the next question.

"Why did you leave?" She asked in such a small voice, Carl almost didn't hear her. But he did. He pondered the answer for a moment, eyes on the road. That was a loaded question. It wasn't for any one reason, but he didn't want to spill his soul to these people he just meant. While he thought about the question, the silence was awkward and uncomfortable for Carl's companions. Carl glanced at the rear-view mirror, seeing Hector share a quizzical look with Chloe. He finally settled on an answer.

"It's complicated," Carl finally spoke. The group waited for an explanation that never came. Carl decided not to go into the specifics, like his feeling of abandonment after Enid left him. Or the grief he felt when his father died suddenly of a heart attack. Or the pain of seeing Michonne's condition grow worse with every passing day. He hated losing people. And he was losing the people he cared for the most, so he decided he wasn't going to be around the people he cares about. He knew they'd die one day, and if Judy or Duane were going to die before him, he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to experience it. He didn't want to even know about it. It was better that way.

Course, he'd never tell that to these people.

Question Time seemingly over, Hector pulled a cigarette and lighter out of his breast pocket. He attempted to light the cigarette but found his lighter fresh out of juice. He let out a frustrated sigh. Noticing this, Carl pulled his lighter out of his pocket.

"I got a light if I can bum a cigarette," Carl offered. Carl still had about six Morley's left, but if he could snag another, he would. Hector looked at him with a sly smile.

"Really, buddy? What happened to your sense of altruism?" The scout asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"I left it in Georgia," Carl answered dryly, "It's in a busted-up prison, lying under a tank. Now how 'bout it?" Hector chuckled before giving in. He handed a Morley to Carl before lighting them up. Dr. Sattler coughed almost immediately.

"I hate to be a bother, fellas," She started, "But would you mind opening a window? The smoke is unbearable." Carl grunted, conceding to the doctor's request. He rolled down his window, airing out the smoke that he exhaled. The RV was relatively quiet after that exchange. Soon, however, Ulysses radioed for Carl and Winnie to pull over to clear a small herd blocking the road. Carl had an uneasy feeling in his chest as he pulled over. A feeling he hadn't felt in quite a while. Not since the Savior's first attack on Alexandria all those years ago.


End file.
